


Sir Galahad's Weakness

by robinasnyder



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenkins would rather be called Jenkins than Galahad. He doesn't want the responsibility or the burden. He wants to be someone else. Ideally he'd be a selfish, devil may care kind of man, someone like Ezekiel Jones. But Jenkins can never be Ezekiel. But he can love Ezekiel with everything he'd got in his body (even though he know it's just going to hurt when it's over).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’d rather be Jenkins than Galahad. He’d also rather the Librarians not know it. One in particular. Colonel Baird remembered of course. She mentioned it once to him in private. He told her that if it really was a matter of safety or some serious life and death that yes, she could tell, but that Charlee and Judson knew, and if they’d needed Flynn or the other Librarians to know that they would have told. She promised to keep it to herself. 

He was grateful.

He was very, very old. He wasn’t human. He was separate, different. He was a crotchety old man, apparently. He was fine with that. Humans were gone in the flash of an eye. Companionship was fleeting. Caring was painful and unproductive. But caring was in his nature. He’d been the greatest knight because he couldn’t stop caring. He couldn’t pretend not to be aware of the weight of life, and of death. 

And it was a burden. 

So he withdrew. The library was a refuge to him. He didn’t have to care about what he couldn’t see. And maybe it warped him a little, the isolation. But it hurt less, thank you very much. 

And then the Library became unmoored from their plane of reality and he ended up with a bunch of infants on his door step who played at being Librarians.

And to his great gall, those infants made him care again. 

One in particular. 

Ezekiel Jones was no great hero of old. He was thief and rogue and didn’t care about much at all except his own instant gratification. 

So when Ezekiel grabbed him by his bowtie and kissed him and then just smirked at him like a dare, Jenkins knew that Ezekiel meant that kiss as much as he meant that smirk. Jenkins made himself unlikeable, but Ezekiel liked him anyway. 

And damn him! Ezekiel had made him care again. Ezekiel broke his shell. Ezekiel teased him and bantered with him and moved through life with so little care. 

The best part was that all that devil may care attitude was touchable. Jenkins didn’t have to watch from the side lines. He could go on cases. He could help out. He could grab Ezekiel and kiss him when no one was looking. 

(The others didn’t know and Jenkins didn’t know if Ezekiel wanted it that way, but Jenkins didn’t like having anyone know his business)

Sex was every bit as wild as Jenkins remembered, which made him ache to know that Ezekiel would take himself out of Jenkin’s reach as soon as he got bored of him. Humans passed in the blink of an eye, but Jenkins had no illusions that he’d get more than a little of Ezekiel’s life. 

Jenkins would lie away with Ezekiel nuzzled into his chest. He knew Ezekiel would turn around and sleep with attractive women too, but Jenkins didn’t mind, because Ezekiel gave more of himself to Jenkins. Ezekiel teased and played with him. He trusted Jenkins to keep secret the little B&Es that he enjoyed so much. Jenkins knew how much of a real hero Ezekiel could actually be. 

So maybe Jenkins would hold Ezekiel a little closer at night, and nose a bit into his hair and get a strong smell of him, preserving memories. Maybe Jenkins would rub Ezekiel’s back as he slept and soothe the bad dreams when they came (always about gas lamps). And maybe he would just pray that Ezekiel would come back alive from the next mission. Jenkins would follow Ezekiel on missions all the time if he could, just to keep him safe, but Ezekiel felt smothered when Jenkins did that and told him so. 

The choice was this: keep him alive, or keep him closer a little longer? Jenkins’s choice changed by the minute. 

“You’ve gotta stop mate,” Ezekiel said after about the third time Ezekiel caught him secretly following him. “I’m a thief. You honestly think I can’t tell when someone’s following me?” 

Jenkins sighed. “Your hearing is annoyingly good.” 

“Yeah well, look, I know that you get bored being stuck in the Annex all day, but some day you’re going to be following after me and you’re going to do something stupid and fall down and get your hip busted or something,” Ezekiel said. 

Jenkins raised a brow. “Just how old do you think I am?” 

“I don’t know, but my luck is you’ve got a sore hip or something and I don’t want to be reason you get hurt or lose an eye or something.” 

Jenkins laughed, which just seemed to offend Ezekiel. 

“You think it’s funny?” Ezekiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You’re funny,” Jenkins said. He drew Ezekiel into a strong embrace and kissed him. 

“Glad you’re amused,” Ezekiel said into his suit jacket. “Why are you laughing?” 

“Zeky,” Jenkins said, just to watch Ezekiel pull away and glare at him. “I may be a lot older than you, but I’ve been around the Library for a long time. Did it ever occur to you that I actually can take of myself?” 

“I know you can,” Ezekiel said in a rare moment of seriousness. “But stuff can still get too big or fast or something for you.” 

“Yes, don’t I know it,” Jenkins said a little sad. He rested his forehead against Ezekiel’s. “I didn’t follow you because I was bored. I was afraid of you being hurt and not having anyone there to back you up.”

“You mean you were worried about me?” Ezekiel asked with a smirk. “You do realize that I’m a Librarian right?” 

“Yeah, I know. I also know how many Librarians die. I’ve been here for a long time… so will you just not go off on your own so much, not after monsters or magical artifacts?” 

Ezekiel frowned and looked at Jenkins face. Then he nodded. “I’ll try,” he said. 

Jenkins knew that was best as he would get. He didn’t try to thank Ezekiel for it. He just kissed him. 

For all they played and verbally snipped at each other, they weren’t a couple of words. Their relationship was probably just physical to Ezekiel, and Jenkins could (and would) live with that. But Jenkins didn’t think he should let himself get sappy. It would probably drive his thief away, and he wasn’t ready for that.


	2. Chapter 2

Ezekiel picks a movie called _Guardians of the Galaxy_ for what has been dubbed as “team movie night”. Jenkins isn’t that much of a fan of the whole thing, but Ezekiel sprawls across him (and Jacob Stone too, but that’s better for their cover anyway) from the whole movie. Jenkins even gets to rub Ezekiel’s stomach with everyone else is distracted. 

The movie is pretty stupid, but Jenkins sees why Ezekiel likes it. He likes action and aliens and loud noises and pretty things. 

And Ezekiel is a little like Peter Quill. Granted, Peter Quill is in many ways a more traditional hero. Jenkins doesn’t like that Peter is sort of like Ezekiel, but different enough that he just isn’t Ezekiel. He doesn’t want someone who is almost but not quite Ezekiel. He wants Ezekiel. 

And the Peter Quill says something, and Jenkins lets out a very audible. “Oh.” 

“What?” Ezekiel asks, tipping his head back to look at Jenkins. In fact everyone is looking at him. 

“Nothing,” Jenkins said. “This movie is just quite dull.” 

Ezekiel looks sour and Stone mutters that Jenkins has no soul and Colonel Baird (damn her for seeing right through him) snorts and then turns right back to the movie. She was snuggled up in Flynn’s laps, taking exactly what she wanted. Damn her. 

The raccoon had asked with Peter Quill wanted to save the galaxy, and Peter Quill had answered that he was one of the idiots who lived in the lived in the galaxy. 

That was Ezekiel. 

Jenkins hugged Ezekiel a little closer. He had wondered why Ezekiel cared before. Because yes, he did love shiny things, but he also tossed a shiny thing aside when he’d looked at enough. But he kept coming back to the Library, to the Annex, to the work. 

Ezekiel was a selfish, selfish man and that was why Jenkins loved him so much. Ezekiel was good at saving his own skin, at putting himself first and not caring about anyone else. But Ezekiel also comforted Cassandra when Stone’s self-hatred not directed at her in the stupidest kind of ways. Ezekiel also cared deeply about the people at Collin’s Mills, both the people trapped and the people who were being body snatched. He cared about a little girl who was dying. 

Ezekiel was so flawed and so selfish, and so human. Humans cared about people to some extent. He didn’t pretend to care or to not care. He cared when he cared and didn’t care when he didn’t care. And he would always, always come back to the Library because he was one of the idiots who lived in this world, and Ezekiel had the skills to save it when no one else did. 

Jenkins placed a kiss on the top of Ezekiel’s hair when no one was looking. (Well maybe Colonel Baird was looking, but she already knew so what did he care if she saw?) Ezekiel snuggled into his chest a little more, and that was worth the risk of being seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes they did talk. Not always. Not often. But Jenkins heard stories. Ezekiel told things sometimes. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, like the time Ezekiel’s mother called while they were having sex and Ezekiel accidentally answered when he’d tried to hit ignore. Jenkins had to hold his breath while Ezekiel promised his mother that he’d call back, that he was in the middle of exercising and that his library job was really working for him. 

That was the night that Jenkins learned that Ezekiel didn’t have the same heartbreaking family story as Cassandra or Stone. Which was why he didn’t talk about it. His parents were perfectly normal middle class citizens, which Ezekiel found disgustingly dull. 

“It’s understandable,” Jenkins said. “Incredible things from very dull places.” 

“Yeah, well I must be the best because home is the absolute most dull,” Ezekiel said. He kissed Jenkin’s cheek like an apology. They hadn’t gotten to finish, but the mood was effectively ruined. Jenkins ran a hand up Ezekiel’s back. His skin was very smooth, even when it was sticky with drying sweat. 

“Clearly,” Jenkins said. A derisive snort kept him from spilling his guts. He would lose Ezekiel if he allowed the flowery words of love flow out of his mouth. The smirk that followed the snort was his own private amusement. He’d had a lot of men and women through the years desperate to hear the poetry Galahad could produce. They’d wanted to hear beautiful words of love. And yet here was a man for whom he would happily weave those words and Ezekiel wouldn’t want them. 

“What about you?” Ezekiel asked. He was hugging his pillows, looking at Jenkins expectantly. He’d shared. It was fair. 

“What about me?” Jenkins said. He plumped his pillow and dropped his head back on to it. 

“Did you come from someplace dull?” Ezekiel asked. Curiosity was in his eyes. His body was vibrating with it. When he got something in his mind, it was hard to get it out. 

“Hardly,” Jenkins said. 

“What, no boring parents?” 

“Not even a little bit,” Jenkins said. Then he followed that up with stupidity. He was trying to keep his secret. And still he said, “My father is still alive.” 

“Woah, really? He must be like, super old.” Ezekiel propped himself up. 

“Well, I am also super old,” Jenkins said.

“Yeah, true. Is that a magic thing?” Ezekiel asked. 

“I lived… around magic. When it’s in every part of the ground and every bite you eat and every drink of water you taste… it changes you,” Jenkins said. 

“So, will we all live a really long time now that magic is back?” Ezekiel asked. 

“It’s not concentrated enough. And besides, you don’t want to live this long,” Jenkins said bitterly. He felt very lonely and very old. So many people he loved were either gone or hated him. He wouldn’t wish this particular curse on anyone. 

“I don’t see why,” Ezekiel said. “Everyone dies eventually and I’d still know you. It’s not like I’m super close to that many people now.” 

“You’d be amazed how that wears on you,” Jenkins said. He wrapped his arms around Ezekiel and dragged him into a tight hold. He could feel Ezekiel’s still pound heart, his breath, his living warmth. He smelled Ezekiel’s sweat, his shampoo, and Ezekiel’s very specific Ezekiel smell. He was holding onto a blink of an eye and hoping it didn’t fade too fast. 

Ezekiel didn’t speak. Jenkins guessed he fell asleep. But Jenkins was okay with that. Ezekiel didn’t generally let him hold on so tight. He could get to cuddle Ezekiel sometimes, but not so tight or with a grip so strong. Ezekiel didn’t like feeling trapped. He was a thief and thieves needed to be able to run at the drop of a hat. 

Jenkins didn’t examine why Ezekiel would allow him to hold on so tight. That didn’t matter too much. Jenkins just accepted the gift for what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a really short update because I miss these goobers.


End file.
